


Weddings

by saakaat



Category: Ylvis
Genre: Angst, Brotherly Love, Eventual Ylviscest, Fluff, M/M, Memories, Relationship(s), Romance, So be warned, Sorry Not Sorry, Weddings, young ylvis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2018-03-26 02:22:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3833440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saakaat/pseuds/saakaat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Sometimes when two people love each other very, very much, they decide to get married, and so they have a wedding"</p><p>But is that really all there is to it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Analogue

**Author's Note:**

> Eek here we go! I'm going to be a bridesmaid in three months, so naturally I've been thinking a bit about weddings. This story has burrowed into my head and I need to let it out. It's going to be a long one (well, long by my standards!) so stay tuned!
> 
> Disclaimer: this is 100% fiction/masturbatory fantasy. Read with extreme caution.

He hefted a thick, hard-backed book onto his lap, one of many that sat beside him. He turned the first page and peered at the sepia-toned blocks of colour before him. It took him a good ten seconds of fruitlessly peering at the indistinguishable shapes before he realised his error. He retrieved his reading glasses from the adjacent coffee table. Suddenly he could see everything.

The photograph was of a small group of people, tanned beaming faces squinting in the light of the sun. A lot of the faces held little meaning for him now; even the woman in the centre with the white dress and floral headpiece. He was old now, and time's unrelenting rivers had eroded his once sharp mind like limestone. Yet there were a few people in the happy party who he recognised immediately. There was a handsome, bespectacled couple in their thirties, a man in a loose-fitting shirt with his arm around a woman in a formal summer dress. Standing before them were two little boys. The handwritten caption underneath the photo told him that the taller boy with the olive complexion and shiny raven hair would be about nine. The smaller, golden-haired boy was conspicuous in being the only figure not looking directly into the camera. Instead his gaze was fixed on the profile of the boy beside him. The cherubic little face with the huge blue eyes wore a peaceful, beatific smile.

He continued to turn the pages. Many images held little interest, and so he didn't linger on those for long. Others merited more focused attention. It seemed he meditated longest on the photos which featured those two boys together. There were thousands of such photographs in existence, yet it was the ones in his personal archives which held the greatest significance. These were his own to cherish and he didn't wish to share them with anybody. The photos gradually increased in quality and vibrancy, and with that the two boys grew into men.

Those newer photos marked the era where digital photography began to supersede 35mm film, yet the man had continued to print his own photos and store them in albums. Over the years many people had asked him why he ever bothered with photo albums when electronic storage made cataloging images so much more efficient and economical. He would go on to anyone who would listen that it was because the advent of digital had taken some of the soul out of photography; but the truth was simply that the physicality was reassuring for him. Given a physical form, the image turned from a mass of pixels to a solid entity. A momento.

He had found a box of negatives in his old childhood attic after his mother had died, which sparked an interest in analogue photography and processing. He turned his seldom-used shed into a dark room, and enjoyed spending solitary hours there when his wife went out to visit friends. Many of the negatives were evidently ones his parents had decided not to get developed. Or if they had been, the resulting photos were long disposed of. It wasn't difficult to see why. Often images were hindered by poor lighting, or obscured by clumsy fingers. He processed them regardless, as even the poorest ones helped brighten the fading memories of his youth. Besides, there was usually somewhere he could file them in his photo albums.

His wife had always laughed at his painstaking dedication to the cause; how he would label each and every photograph with pertinent and not so pertinent details. Yet what she teased him about the most was his chosen method of categorisation. He didn’t group his photos by chronological era. Instead all the photos were grouped by theme or topic. Often the themes were disparate and seemingly nonsensical, but to him it seemed logical. There was an album full of photos of all the family pets he had had in his life, and another full of candid photos taken during band rehearsals. He even had an album full of images of interesting sundials he had encountered in his life. His reasoning was that the human brain doesn't work on a regimented timeline. All his life he had been fascinated with neuronal plasticity, and the idea that synaptic connections are strengthened through repetition. He found it remarkable how memories he didn't even know he possessed could be renewed and revived. He recalled the time he found his old set of golf clubs in the attic. The moment he pulled out the old 9-iron and felt its weight in his hands, he had been taken right back to the day he had last used it, and how his brother had curled into a ball of uncontrollable laughter as he swung and missed the tee again, and again. Yes, the human brain really is a remarkable thing.

They say the day you get married is the most unforgettable day of your life, so predictably the album sitting in his lap stirred more in him than most. He remembered little of the peripheral details like first dances, speeches and gifts. Yet certain arbitrary moments shone like neon rays through the grey fog. The brush of a hand, a soft melodic chuckle, a chaste kiss, the warmth of another body. His significant other, his soulmate. The emotions tied up in these episodic memories were enduring. Whenever revived he felt that warmth emanating from his chest and spreading to his fingers and toes, just as intensely as the moments those memories were created. If he ever felt that he was too old to experience joy, curiosity, passion, he need only recall those moments to feel young again. To feel alive.  


	2. The Very First Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bård helps bake a cake, and he gets kissed by an angel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! Writing from a child's 3rd person POV was completely out of my comfort zone, but I hope it's okay! I'm not sure how often I'll get to update but please nudge me if you'd like me to continue :)

"Mama?"

"Yes sweetie?"

"What's a wedding?"

The woman turned to address her son properly, smiling as she wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. The action left a small patch of flour on her face. She thought for a few seconds before answering. "Sometimes when two people love each other very, very much, they decide to get married, and so they have a wedding"

"But what's it for?" Bård reached for another egg out of the carton as he spoke, cupping it with both hands to ensure it didn't join the other egg that had met an unfortunate end on the floor only moments before.

"Well…” his mother paused, searching for the right words. “The wedding is so the happy couple can stand in front of their friends and families and promise to stay together forever. It's a very special celebration". Bård's mama reached for the whisk and turned her attention back to the mixing bowl on the counter.

"Like a party?" Bård gingerly tapped the smooth shell on the edge of his own bowl. Once, twice, before a tiny crack appeared. His little hands prised the shell apart, spilling the contents into the bowl. He smiled triumphantly.

"Yes, exactly! With lots of cake, and other special food. Also music, dancing..."

"And kissing?" The young boy looked up at his mama, giggling.

"Sometimes kissing" the woman chuckled, “But you’re a bit young for that sort of thing, aren’t you?”

The pair laughed and chattered as they combined the contents of their bowls. Mama let Bård whisk, though when she tried to guide his movements he shooed her away stubbornly. By the time the cake was finally in the oven the kitchen was covered in flour, batter and egg shells. Bård tried to help clean, but his mama told him to go and play, as the cake wouldn’t be ready to decorate for a while yet. Except there was no one to play with; Vegard was out with Papa on an errand into the city. Bård had desperately wanted to go, but everyone had said he was too little. Well, it was actually Vegard who had gleefully delivered the news, with some teasing ditty about Bård being a little baby. In retaliation the younger boy had kicked Vegard and they ended up scrambling on the floor. Their exasperated parents pulled them apart and Bård was sent to his room whilst their papa took Vegard away. Bård cried as he watched the special car come and pick them up.  It was all so unfair. He hated being little. He wanted to be big like Vegard. He hated Vegard.

After what felt like forever his mama came and gave him a hug. She needed Bård’s help to make a very special cake for the wedding. Bård didn’t really like cake that much, but Vegard did, so maybe Vegard would be jealous. Yet he soon forgot about being mad at Vegard. Making the cake was fun, and it had been good to see his mama so happy. All the grown-ups had been so grumpy lately. At first Bård thought it was because they had to work and so they couldn’t play like the children did. But Vegard told him it was really because of the war. It seemed lately that everyone was talking about the war. Bård didn't really know what the war was about, and when he asked anybody they didn't seem to know either, or they would get too busy to answer his question. All he knew was that mama and papa were more strict about letting them both play outside; even Vegard, who at nine years old was practically a grown-up himself.

But people had been happier lately. Vegard said that it was because everyone was excited about the wedding. A young Swedish couple in the compound had decided to marry, and finally a date was set when a small wedding would be possible. Bård had never been to a wedding before, and neither had Vegard. His mama had told him that back in Norway children don't tend to go to weddings, so he felt very grown up indeed. Especially when Papa and Vegard came back with a big parcel.

Their parents had ordered them special smart clothes for the happy day. They were custom made, and the boys had been measured for them a few weeks before. Papa set the box down smiling as the two brothers peeked inside. Vegard pushed Bård a little as he reached inside the box, so he pushed back fiercely. Round two of the day’s fight very nearly erupted, but was quickly extinguished with a warning glance from their mother. The two boys changed into their new suits. Whilst Bård’s fit perfectly, it turned out Vegard had had somewhat of a growth spurt, and the trousers were noticeably too short. Naturally, Bård took the opportunity to laugh at his brother’s misfortune, which very nearly resulted in yet another scuffle. It was only when their parents threatened to leave them with a babysitter for the wedding that both boys made grudging peace.

The next day was the big day, and it was hotter than ever outside. The boys wanted to go and play but they were told to stay indoors so they wouldn’t get dirty. Eventually though the whole family were dressed and ready for the short walk to the chapel. They had to wait for a long time as other people came and joined them, and it was hot and boring.

“Mama, when will the wedding start?”

“Soon, my darling. Just hold on a little while longer”.

Bård sank back down into the pew, swatting away an insect that buzzed annoyingly in his face. He tried to get Vegard’s attention but the boy had found a small sheet of paper and started folding it into a swan. He’d wanted to teach Bård to do that once, but the young one had lost interest. Yet with nothing better to do, he now looked on as Vegard flipped and folded and the little paper bird took shape. When Vegard was finished their eyes met and he took Bård's hand, nestling the tiny swan in his clammy palm. Bård started stroking the object with his index finger, trying to fathom how the flat piece of paper could become a swan, before he was shaken out of his reverie by the church organ.

An angel. He was certain he had seen an angel. He had always thought the bride-Anna-to be pretty, but now he knew she was actually an angel. Her golden hair had been plaited and spun around her head, and she was wearing a crown of flowers. As she floated past in her long, white gown, Bård was enthralled. He didn't really understand what was happening, but soon the angel was met by a tall, smart man and they stood before an important-looking man in a robe.

The ceremony was in Swedish, but Bård understood it easily, except for some of the longer words. He could ask Vegard about those later. The speech was about the couple promising to stay together for their whole lives no matter what. The talking went on for so long that Bård's concentration started to waver. He started idly playing with the little paper swan until he heard a word that finally drew him back into the proceedings. The couple were allowed to kiss, and Vegard had to quickly cover his brother’s mouth to pacify his giggles.

After the ceremony someone took some photos and soon they made their way to the small community hall for the celebrations. The music Bård’s mama had promised was light and lively, and although he didn't know any of the songs he danced and jumped around regardless. Bård tried to get Vegard to dance too, but he was too shy. It didn’t matter too much though, as he soon found some grown-ups who were happy to dance with him, including the bride.

Soon he wanted to find Vegard. He wanted to talk to him about the vows, and tell him about how he had been kissed by angel. He looked everywhere in the small room, but couldn’t find his brother. Then he passed the cakes. There were a lot of cakes, including the bløtkake he had helped bake with his mama. It was clearly the most tasty of all the cakes, as quite a lot of slices had been taken. He soon found his mama flush-faced and talking animatedly with a friend.

“mama, can I have some cake?”

Mama peered at him curiously through her glasses. “I thought you didn’t like cake”.

“I like the cake we made” he explained.

“Of course, my darling!” she smiled as she cut a small wedge of cake and put it onto a paper plate with a plastic spoon. Bård was about to leave when he felt someone tap him on the shoulder. It was the lady his mama had been talking to. She gave him a big smile and an extra serving of cake for “being such a helpful little boy”. He worked to hide his grimace as she piled his plate high with cream.

It was by chance he saw the shiny black shoe peeking under the cloth of one of the folding tables. He pulled back the sheet and crawled underneath, pushing the plate in front of him. Vegard was playing his gameboy, working so hard to control the fast-moving blocks on his screen that he didn’t even notice his little brother enter. When he noticed him his game ended abruptly.

“Bård what are  you doing here, you made me lose my life!”

“I brought you some cake” the younger one nudged the plate in front of his brother’s crossed legs. Vegard’s eyes opened that little bit wider, and he eagerly reached for the spoon. It wasn’t that Vegard hadn’t had any cake. The  fact was he had already had three slices, and his mama had told him he wasn’t allowed any more. But they didn’t have to tell mama, Bård reasoned. It was worth being dishonest to see Vegard smile as he spooned the creamy mixture into his mouth. Bård nestled beside his brother in the tiny space.

“When I grow up, I’m going to marry Anna” the little one announced proudly. He had thought about it all afternoon; ever since the angel had kissed him on the cheek and thanked him for coming. He was pretty certain in his choice, until Vegard let out a loud snort, nearly spitting cake into his own lap.

“You can’t marry Anna, she’s married to Josef now!”

“So what?”

“Well, Anna is already married, and you’re only allowed to be married to one person”.  

“How come?”

“It’s the law!” Vegard exclaimed dramatically, reaching for another spoonful of cake.

Bård wrinkled his brow as he looked up at the bigger boy beside him. “But mama said people get married if they love each other very much…”

“Uh huh?”

“But what if you love two people?” Bård queried. “What if you love lots of people? Why can’t you just marry all of the people who you love?”

Vegard turned to look at his brother. “It doesn’t work like that, Bård. You have to pick the person you love most out of ALL the people in the world. And that is who you marry”.

“Oh okay” Bård replied, deep in thought. To Bård, his brother was the very best person in the whole wide world. Even though he was grumpy sometimes, he was kind. He was also smart, perhaps even as smart as mama and papa, and he was funny. Which was why there was no doubt in his mind. “I know who I want to marry now”

“Who?”

“You”.

He had expected Vegard to be happy. He hadn’t expected Vegard to laugh so loudly. “You can’t marry me; you’re not allowed to marry your brother, stupid!”

Bård bristled. He hated being called stupid, almost as badly as he hated not knowing something. “Why not?”

“Because two boys can’t marry each other!”

“Why not?” Bård countered.

“Because that’s just how it is! Will you stop asking stupid questions?”

Bård was hurt by the exasperated outburst. He turned to  the tablecloth, playing with a loose thread. “It’s not my questions that are stupid. It’s the answers”.

He didn’t know why Vegard put his arm around him, but it felt nice. He shuffled in closer to his big brother, feeling safe and comfortable in their cosy hiding place. He didn’t remember falling asleep, but that’s what he must’ve done, because he woke up to the gentle rocking in his papa’s arms on the walk home. That was his first wedding. He hoped it wouldn’t be his last. 

 


	3. The Alien Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bård's going through changes...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter, another wedding! I should mention at this point that each chapter moves forward in time, and the story will be non-au. I hope you don't find this too boring. Any feedback/constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated :D

He worked the soap to a lather under the cascading water and roamed his hands over his chest, to his underarms and then across his lower stomach. It was inevitable that his hands would migrate lower still, to the semi-rigid flesh between his legs. His cock responded to the touch immediately as he tightened his grip and began taking slow, measured strokes. He turned his face away so the water ran over his back instead, never missing a beat as he worked his shaft with a practised hand. He felt that little pull, the familiar warmth in the pit of his stomach, and he emitted a soft moan that bounced off the tiles. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes.

Bård was thirteen years old and already well-versed in the art of self pleasure. He often found himself vying for gratification at the most inopportune moments. This particular moment was more inopportune than most. The whole family were in Sogndal for his cousin’s wedding, staying at the grace of a family friend. He was sharing a tiny bedroom with Vegard, and although he wasn’t averse to the idea of furtively masturbating beside his sleeping brother (he had done that very thing the night before), he now longed for privacy. To be alone in his wicked thoughts. As he pumped his erection he mentally conjured up images and scenarios to see himself to completion. Such was his eagerness, within moments he came trembling, planting his free hand on the tiles for support.

The cold hit Bård the second he switched off the stream of running water. He had hoped having a wank would warm him up a bit, but the post-climactic glow had quickly dissipated. He grimaced, teeth chattering as he grabbed a towel to dry his naked, goose pimpled flesh. He pulled on his boxers, shortly followed by an ugly pair of long johns and a thermal vest. These items were by no means fashionable, but they proved to be a necessity as he prepared to face his first winter in Norway in almost three years. The old house they were staying in was undergoing the final stages of renovation and as such there was no working radiator in the bathroom. The bathroom didn’t even have a working lock, a fact Bård was reminded of very abruptly as a figure burst in on him.

“Oh sorry, I didn’t realise you were still in here!” Vegard quickly recovered from his fright and walked over to the toilet. Bård averted his gaze as his brother unfastened his zipper and proceeded to empty his bladder without hesitation. "Seriously though, Bård, hurry the fuck up; we have to leave in ten minutes!" He continued, oblivious to Bård's discomfort.

"But you're not even dressed yourself yet!” Bård remarked, and it was partly true. Vegard was wearing his smart grey trousers with a white singlet. Bård perched on the edge of the bathtub and risked a glance at his brother’s back and shoulders. It was six weeks since they had arrived back from Angola, yet whereas Bård's own tan had long faded his brother continued to glow. Bård always felt the prickle of envy whenever he looked at Vegard's body. The older boy was slim, but by no means skinny. Combined with his brown eyes and long, dark wavy hair, Vegard looked striking.

Vegard finished his business and looked down at Bård with a smug smile. "It'll take me less than a minute to put on a shirt and tie. You don't even know how to fasten a tie!"

"Well I have bigger priorities in my life right now" Bård mumbled, reaching for his socks.

"Like wanking?" Vegard retorted, quick as a flash. Normally Bård was the one who could outsmart his brother, leaving him bewildered and tongue-tied. But this time Vegard was so near the mark it left him reeling. Bård looked at the floor and worked to pull on his socks. Finally Vegard washed his hands and left the bathroom. “Five minutes, Bård. And no, you don’t have time for another wank”.

“At least I don’t wank over planes” Bård snapped back. But it was too late; his brother had already disappeared into the small guest bedroom. As he slipped on his crisp shirt Bård was struck with a curious feeling of deja vu. He couldn’t help compare and contrast this day with the memory of the first wedding he had been to many years before. It was funny to think how much his relationship with Vegard had changed since that wedding in Mozambique. Teasing aside, they had forged a close friendship. Of course it hadn't happened overnight. In fact, it came on so gradually that Bård couldn’t possibly say when they had trespassed beyond the borders of normality. Their years spent living in atypical surroundings provided few points of reference for typical brotherly behaviour. Yet he knew enough to know their relationship was anything but ordinary.

For example, it wasn't normal to slip into your brother's room and masturbate. Yet that's exactly what he did whenever Vegard wasn't home. His favourite illicit activity was standing before Vegard's full-length mirror and watching himself getting off. He couldn’t be sure whether it was some sick narcissistic pleasure, or simply the thrill of committing such an act where he wasn’t supposed to. The truth was, Vegard fascinated him. He had always admired his looks and his nature, but it was only since they had moved back to Norway permanently that he realised just how unique his brother was.

Bård had harboured many expectations leading up to the big move, excited for the change and the opportunity to make new friends besides his brother. After all, although they were close they inevitably annoyed each other from time to time. Yet the reality of the situation was a challenge to say the least. School was boring, predictable and the entire institution full of arbitrary rules and limitations that made little sense. His classmates were no exception to this, and he found it nearly impossible to relate and identify with anyone. In light of these difficulties, he found himself seeking out Vegard more than ever in those first weeks.

Although Vegard was by no means popular at school, he had recently joined a local theatre group and made friends there. It was difficult for Bård to contend with, watching Vegard flourish in their new surroundings. That wasn’t to say Bård wasn’t doing well; despite his feelings of boredom and discontent he was generally well-liked. However, he never felt he could truly just be himself. It was exhausting trying to suppress the confusing feelings that churned beneath the surface. The thing was, there were a great many changes taking place. Most of them within Bård’s own body. Having seen Vegard go through these very same changes he thought he could handle it just fine. However, the transition from boy to adolescent was not nearly as smooth as it had appeared to be for his older brother. Whilst Vegard had developed the broad shoulders and strong thighs of a young man, Bård felt far too skinny. The vicious growing pains shot through his limbs on a nightly basis, disturbing his sleep. When sleep finally did pull him under he was rudely awoken for school, usually by his exuberant little brother jumping on top of him. Yet by far the most difficult thing to contend with was his burgeoning sexuality.

He had an active imagination, but whenever he jerked off, of all the images and scenarios he had conjured in his head he had some repeat favourites. Like Uma Thurman in Pulp Fiction, Maria Lekva's boobs, or images from that dirty magazine the boys had passed around during o-fag. However, as hard as he tried to keep his thoughts on the straight and narrow, his mind had a tendency to veer off course. On some level he had known for a while that he liked boys as well as girls, but it had never truly bothered him until he arrived back in Norway and realised the boys were using 'gay' in a teasing or even derogatory fashion. It was an oppressive environment where masculinity was prided and anything that didn’t conform to the gender stereotype was perceived as weakness. Though nonsensical to him, he had no wish to go against the grain and make his life any more challenging than it already was.

So the wedding was a welcome distraction, respite from the daily rigours of conforming to the crowd. Soon he was dressed, save for the tie which he had yet to bother to master. He padded into the room where Vegard was fastening his shoelaces. They exchanged a look and nothing more needed to be said. Vegard rose and stood before him, plucking the tie from Bård’s hand. He placed it around his little brother’s neck, and took great care in the act of looping the silky fabric through. Bård should’ve been paying attention to the steps, but instead looked up at Vegard’s face, the way his tongue darted out ever so slightly as he focused the task at hand. It was pleasant, distracting sight.

“There, all done!” Vegard announced. He stepped back to admire his handiwork, smiling. “Now we really have to get going!” Vegard reached for his jacket and in a flash had vacated the room. Yet it took Bård a good ten seconds to shake himself off and follow him.  He wondered whether he was coming down with something, as from being chilled to the marrow he was suddenly too warm.

Their cousin Hanne was to be married to her longterm boyfriend. The whole family was in attendance, with the exception of Bjarte who was deemed too young. Waiting around for the ceremony to begin, family members they hadn’t seen in years flocked to the teenagers, cooing over how much they had grown and asking how they were settling in to school. Despite the initial nerves Bård was fine with this; he was naturally good at small talk and was able to field and deflect awkward questions and answer with charm, grace and aplomb. Yet in comparison Vegard stammered and blushed when asked questions about his love life, or whenever someone asked to touch his hair. He had tied it into a bun for the ceremony, but soon he was encouraged to let it loose so people could take a better look. Bård didn’t like watching people just walk up and touch his brother’s hair, but soon they were saved by someone asking them to take their seats for the impending ceremony.

The bride was quite a bit older than Bård, so they had never been overly close during his early years. As she made her short journey down the aisle he experienced no stirrings of emotion. In fact he felt removed and disconnected from proceedings. It was challenging to grasp the sentiments of the vows when the concept of loving someone ‘forever and always’ was so abstract to him. So instead his mind wandered, and his gaze with it. He glanced at the drapes, the chandelier, a large floral display; anything but the couple now exchanging their solemn vows. Finally he looked at Vegard. The older boy had a goofy smile on his face, and Bård wasn’t entirely sure why. As if sensing Bård’s gaze, Vegard looked over at him and the smile spread wider. It was infectious.

The spell wore off after the ceremony with the tedium of about a million toasts. Being an introvert at heart, Bård had a certain threshold after which he required quiet reflection to recharge his batteries. He managed to make a speedy getaway after the main course, promising his dessert to Vegard. The older boy simply nodded, understanding him perfectly without needing to ask, and also relishing the prospect of two cheesecakes. The sun was low in the sky by the time Bård got outside. The reception hall had been hot and crowded, so he gladly inhaled the crisp autumn air. He tried to capture some images of the sunset, but with the tiny aperture of his cheap camera it was nearly impossible to see if he had a good shot, let alone whether there would be sufficient light for the resulting image to be discernible. Still, the pursuit was relaxing and peaceful. So often lately his head was crowded with thoughts. He welcomed the solitude. Yet it proved to be short lived, as he was alerted to the sounds of another soul by the snapping of a twig. His heart lurched in his chest as turned rapidly to locate the source of the sound, to find himself face-to-face with a girl. 

"Fuck, you scared me!" He exclaimed, working to regulate his breathing. As his eyes adjusted to the dimming light he recognised the girl as the older of the two bridesmaids. Her dusky pink dress was hidden under a puffy jacket and scarf, her dainty shoes replaced with sturdy boots.   
  
"I'm sorry to frighten you. I'm Victoria. You are Hanne's cousin. Vegard, right?"    
  
"Bård", he corrected, smiling. Although he had wanted to be alone, Victoria was rather pretty and seemed pleasant enough. "What are you doing out here, anyway?"  
  
She giggled, and retrieved half a bottle of some unidentifiable spirit from within the oversized jacket. "I swiped this. Would you like some?" Bård didn't question how Victoria had come into possession of a bottle of what turned out to be aquavit. Rather he was brimming with curiosity, and that small part of him that sought to rebel led the bridesmaid over to a fallen tree trunk he had spotted earlier. He sat beside her and stared up at the sky as she unscrewed the cap and handed him the bottle. He took a swig, fighting the urge to choke as the vile substance slipped down his throat. If Victoria sensed his distress she didn't draw attention to it, gently prising the bottle from him with her manicured fingers and taking a sip. He noticed that she didn't wipe the neck of the bottle first.

"Your dialect is cute" she said, shuffling in closer. Bård felt uneasy with the sudden proximity, but told himself to stay still and talk to the pretty girl. So they continued to talk. Well, Victoria continued to talk. She had asked Bård a few cursory questions about his family and hobbies, but she seemed mainly interested in talking about herself and her aspirations to become a fashion designer. After a minute of feigning interest he learned that it was best to just leave her to the vapid monologue, occasionally contributing a "mmm" and "uh huh" here and there to keep things ticking along.   
  
The aquavit got better with every sip. The temperature outside had dropped markedly, so in the absence of a jacket he found the warming effects of the strong spirit sort of welcome. He didn't remember any conscious decision to kiss her; it seemed he blinked and the next thing he knew a wet pair of lips was pressed against his own, the taste of the alcohol lingering on the tongue that forced entrance. He was slow to react, unsure of where to put his hands, and despite the alcohol was all too conscious, much too sober. He saw her eyes were closed, noticing thick clumps of mascara coating her lashes, so he closed his eyes too and tried to enjoy it.   
  
Her lips moved to his neck, grazing and sucking at the flesh. He willed himself to be excited, for this girl was eager and willing. Yet he couldn't share her enthusiasm, he couldn't lose himself in the moment for the distractions of her sickly sweet perfume and the absurd sounds as she kissed him. Soon a hand landed on his right leg and squeezed his thigh. It was all too much, all too bizarre. He yelped and pulled apart from the girl.   
  
"I have to go! It's been...lovely, but my parents are probably wondering where I am" he stammered, already feeling the effects of the alcohol. He didn't stop to register any look of surprise or disappointment as he turned around and lurched forward towards the direction of the hotel. He hadn’t remembered walking that far out, but in the darkness he was disorientated and getting a little panicky as he failed to recognise his surroundings. Yet just when he considered admitting defeat and finding his way back to Victoria he saw the muted light through the branches of the trees. As he made his way into the clearing he collided with another body.

“Bård! Where the fuck have you been? I was getting worried”. Vegard’s hands felt warm on his shoulders, and despite the anger and desperation in the older boy’s voice, Bård felt calm, relieved beyond measure.

“Everything’s fine, Vegard, I was just taking some photographs” Bård answered, but his tongue felt heavy and clumsy in his mouth, the slurring in his speech noticeable even to himself. He registered Vegard shaking his head in disappointment.

“Have you been drinking?” The older boy grabbed him by the lapels, frowning as he examined his features against the light of the building. “And what the fuck is that thing on your neck? What happened?”

“Victoria happened”. Was his mumbling reply.

“Victoria? The bridesmaid? You know she’s fifteen right? You’re unbelievable!”

Bård laughed at Vegard's incredulous reaction. "Are you jealous?”

“No! Don't be ridiculous!" Vegard exclaimed, a little too emphatically. Bård suddenly felt light-headed, and his brother's expression softened as he seemed to sense this. "Go and sit down on that bench over there, I’ll go get you some water. And something to hide that hickey”.

Bård obediently wandered over to the bench, and closed his eyes to stop his surroundings from spinning. He slowly opened them when he felt someone pushing a plastic cup between his cold fingers. "Drink", Vegard commanded, settling in beside his younger brother. Bård downed the water in a single gulp, handing the cup back to Vegard. He tried to focus on his features, but his brothers face was only partially illuminated. "And put this on" he added, handing Bård a woollen scarf. Vegard's scarf, he noted, as of course he had forgotten to bring one of his own. He wrapped it around his neck without hesitation, inhaling the familiar smell.

Vegard sighed, bringing his hand to Bård's chin, holding his gaze. "Bård, you shouldn’t go into the forest with strange girls". He paused, adjusting the scarf. "Or guys, for that matter".

Bård blinked, confused. "In my defence, the strange girl found me" he eventually added, shrugging away Vegard's touch and resting the back of his head against the wall behind him.

Vegard seemed lost in thought for a moment. They sat in a companionable silence that was only broken by an unusual question. "So...how was it?"

The question was unusual in the respect that this wasn't a subject matter the brothers ever freely discussed. Bård reasoned his brother must have indulged in a little alcohol himself to be speaking so frankly. "It wasn’t how I was expecting it to feel", he admitted after a moment's silence.

"What were you expecting?" Vegard asked softly.

"I don’t know. To feel… something? To feel good?"

Vegard chuckled, a pleasant and comforting sound in the darkness. "She sucked on your neck like a vacuum cleaner. I’m not surprised it didn’t feel good"

Bård tried to smile, but he couldn't shake off what was truly bothering him. "Maybe, I don’t know. But it seems like nothing is how it’s supposed to be with me"

"How do you mean?" He felt Vegard shift closer, a warm hand on his shoulder as his brother spoke.

The worries and anxieties Bård had been harbouring poured out uninhibited. "I can’t explain. But no matter what I do or say to fit in, I just feel like an alien".

“Well, you know what you need to do then”.

“What?”

“Stop trying to fit in. Those things that make you feel separate and different from everyone else? Embrace them. Those are the parts of you that make you unique". Vegard brought his hand to stroke Bård's cheek. It was warming. "They’re the parts of you I love the most”.

Bård was stunned by the admission. Despite their closeness, they never expressed their emotions in words. There was always something far more interesting to talk about, like space explorations, or flesh-eating bacteria. The fact of the matter was, there was never a need for dramatic declarations. But Bård appreciated it none-the-less.

“Thank you” He whispered.

“Anytime. Look, I promise you things won’t always be so shit. Just promise me something in return”.

“What?”

“Promise you won’t forget about me when you become world famous”

“That’ll never happen” Bård smiled. “It’ll be years before I forget about you”

Vegard laughed, a real hearty chuckle that Bård loved. He let his head drop onto Vegard’s shoulder, and felt himself be pulled into a light embrace. The warming sensation the action elicited were more potent than any shot of aquavit.

 


End file.
